


what you want in life

by salazarastark



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comfort/Angst, Kissing, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 05:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20003128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salazarastark/pseuds/salazarastark
Summary: Hamlet leave this podunk town with Horatio and doesn't bother looking back.





	what you want in life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Small_Hobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/gifts).



> Thanks to evewithanapple for the beta work.

Hamlet loves Denmark, Missouri with all his heart and soul, but he hates it just as much. This sleepy little town two hours outside St. Louis never has anything going on it, but Hamlet gets back from college for just a few days for his dad’s funeral and the next thing he knows, everything’s gone to shit and he’s getting the hell out of dodge. Mama married his uncle and his two childhood friends have grown into miserable sycophants desperate to please Claudius. The girl he had a crush on ever since he knew how his heart could beat got out of there even quicker, mind breaking from the stress that everyone in this damn town put her through and Hamlet doesn’t feel far behind her.

But Laertes has taken Ophelia away from the Big Brother that was their daddy and took her up to Chicago where he practices law and get her some real help, not the shitty fake help that she would have gotten if she stayed in Denmark.

There’s something rotten in that town, and that’s why Hamlet runs like the devil is chasing him, and as he remembers the shadows in the old warehouse and the whispers of the workers, it might just be the case.

Horatio comes with him, but Horatio follows him everywhere. It’s not as bad as it sounds, because it’s not like Hamlet has got him on a leash and is just yanking his chain. Hamlet’s told Horatio to his face that he should leave him and the hell he raises behind him in the dust, find some happy place where Horatio can just _be_ and not have to think about him ever again.

But Horatio just gives him a sad little smile and tells him that it’s okay, that he doesn’t mind it, and Hamlet isn’t selfless enough to push. So when he’s bleeding and bruised because of the beating his uncle - _not_ his fucking step-daddy - gave him, Horatio is the one who bundles him up in the truck and starts driving away. Takes Hamlet to a hospital an hour away, gets him patched up, and starts driving through the night as the sun sets blue and gold and purple against the green forests and the busy highway, radio turned onto a country station that waves in and out of static and Hamlet stares out the window.

“I ain’t never coming back,” he whispers. Horatio doesn’t do anything but grip his hand tightly.

They drive and they drive until they cross into Oklahoma and they keep driving until they hit Texas and it’s the early morning rather than late night, until eventually Horatio gets so tired that he pulls into a rest stop and kills the engine. They lean back in their seats, and close their eyes, the rustling of the trees a lullaby that manages to sing them to sleep.

He wakes up with Horatio’s face in front of his eyes, Horatio’s arm across the aisle and his hand lacing through Hamlet’s again.

With the hand that isn’t connected to Horatio’s, he traces the fine cheekbones until Horatio opened his eyes slowly and gives Hamlet a soft smile. They’ve only managed to catch a few hours of sleep, but Hamlet had been drifting on and off throughout yesterday, so he and Horatio carefully change sides, and Horatio lets the car lull him to sleep as Hamlet pushes through a rainy Texas morning that turns into beautiful New Mexico sunshine.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says to Horatio when he comes alive again, staring out in wonder at all the beauty and nature around as they slowly eat sandwiches bought from Subway in front of a giant rockmound.

Horatio shrugs. “That’s okay. No one really does.”

He picks at the ham in his sandwich. “I feel like I should know more though. Everyone always told me that I was so smart growing up and now I feel like that flew out the window. What the hell happened?”

Horatio settles a hand on his knee, the weight a burning relief through Hamlet’s dark mind. “I don’t know what the hell to tell you, man. I think life just reaches a point where everyone realizes they don’t know jackshit and you can either admit it or ignore it.”

“What’s the better option?”

Horatio shrugs again. He has nice shoulders, Hamlet realizes. Very nice and strong. Hamlet wants to grip them. “I think it depends on what you want in life.”

His gaze turns toward the giant rock mound. This thing has been here for millennium before he was born, and it’s going to be here for millennium. It could be here five billion years from now when the Earth crashes into the sun. It doesn’t care one fucking bit about Hamlet or his problems.

“I know jackshit,” he says, voice cracking in the hot New Mexican air, the words leaving him in a freeing breath. Horatio laughs next to him, and Hamlet joins in, until they’re rolling around on the hood of the car and letting all this anger and resentment and terror at the world in these gasping, hysterical breaths.

“Bitch, me too,” Horatio finally gets out, and Hamlet can’t see through his tears for a solid five minutes.

Finally, they manage to peel themselves off the ground and get back in the car, windows rolled down and Doobie Brothers playing as they continue to drive west. Hamlet sees them hitting the Pacific and just keep going.

But a part of him wonders what it would be like if they stopped before that.

“Where do you see this ending?” he asks. “We gotta go back to school.” Though fuck knows how he’s going to pay for it, especially when his uncle probably cut him off. And University of Chicago is all the way back across the country, which means they have to drive back and use more gas and food.

Thank God, his mother hasn’t reported her card stolen yet.

Horatio pulls over just outside Santa Fe, and turns to look at Hamlet. His gaze is steady and sure and he takes a deep breath. “I want to tell you right now. I want this to end with me and you.”

There’s a lot Hamlet could say. There’s a lot he could lie about. But as he closes the gap between him and Horatio and pulls him into a deep kiss, desperate and full of the hope that Horatio gives him every damn day, he decides that words aren’t always needed.

Horatio tangles his fingers into Hamlet’s hair, and kisses him back. “Fuck,” he groans into Hamlet’s mouth. “I’ve wanted to do this for years.”

“Why didn’t you?” Hamlet pulls back to look into Horatio’s deep eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

A soft, sad smile cross Horatio’s face. “You have to have mercy on me. I only just learned how to be brave.”

When Horatio saw him on the kitchen floor, his mother screaming at his uncle while Hamlet was bleeding and trembling, when he snarled and grabbed Hamlet and took him all the way across the country.

He smiles back. “I understand. I just learned how myself.”

“Looks like we still have a lot of learning left to do,” Horatio says lightly. “Glad we can together.”

“Yeah,” Hamlet begins to pull Horatio into another kiss. “And I never want to stop.”


End file.
